Cocky Prince Page 15

  “Jaeg’s ex,” I growl, and lean back, shoving my hand through my hair. “Jaeg finally ran her out of town, but she was a piece of work.”

  “The funny thing is,” Hayden says, “I never suspected her, even though we worked together at the ice cream shop. She knew I was headed back to campus to pick up the book the day everything went down. I didn’t put it together until it was too late. Never thought anyone would do something like that just to get to my boyfriend.”

  “If it makes you feel better, she put Jaeg through the wringer.”

  “It doesn’t,” Hayden says, and stares at her hands. “Makes me sad. I’m glad he found Cali.”

  I let out a sigh. “Jaeg survived, but what about you? Did you talk to the school?”

  “After I pleaded with the principal and the superintendent that the rumors weren’t true, and they didn’t believe me, it felt impossible. Like I was going up against the world. And my family—my mom… She was a teacher at an elementary school.” Hayden’s expression turns stony. “They couldn’t fire her, but everyone at the school did what they could to let her know she wasn’t welcome. And the kids at our school made it painfully clear that I wasn’t welcome.”

  I don’t like the sound of that.

  “My parents decided to make a fresh start outside of Lake Tahoe. We tried to sell this place, but no one came to the open houses. A young family from Carson finally showed interest, but they looked into the schools for their son and heard about the rumor connected to the owners and that was the end of that. My parents weren’t willing to lower the price below market value. They rented it to tourists—people who didn’t care about small-town gossip—and we moved to Reno.”

  It’s amazing how easily a lie can ruin a family. If something like this had happened to a Cade, our lawyers and public relations people would have squashed it before it could take flight. But Hayden comes from a middle-class, all-American family that suffered for no good reason. Because they didn’t have the power to do anything to stop it.

  In some ways, I don’t blame Hayden for being leery of Blue Casino and wanting to make sure nothing bad is still going on. She’s trying to protect people, because that’s Hayden. I also suspect it has something to do with not having others do the same for her when she needed it.

  A mix of emotions washes over me. Anger, frustration, that weird need to comfort her…and guilt because I did nothing to help Hayden back then. In fact, I made it worse by convincing her boyfriend to dump her because I didn’t want to see her with another guy. Especially not my best friend. Oh, that’s not what I told myself at the time. I convinced myself it was the best thing for Jaeg, shithead that I was.

  Hayden was too good a person for me then, and she damn well is a better person than me now.

  I blink back the realization and begin taping the wall, ignoring the tightening in my chest. “You wouldn’t have a problem selling this place now.”

  “No,” she agrees, “but that’s not why I bought it.” She abandons the string and peels off another piece of her beer label. “It sounds crazy, but when we left, my life was so out of control. No one but my parents believed me about the teacher. Not even my boyfriend…” Her gaze flickers over, as though she’s catching herself.

  A stab of guilt and something feral burns through me. “I’m sorry, Hayden. For my part. I didn’t care what they were saying. I never believed it.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “Of course not. Anyone who watched you with Jaeg could tell you were hooked. You would never have cheated.”

  She swallows and studies me, her hand squeezing the bottle. “And you know this because you watched me?” she says carefully.

  I don’t look over. “Yes. I should have said something. Should have stopped it.”

  There’d been no doubt in my mind that the rumor about her was false. I had no reason to believe anything different than the rest of the community, except that I’d observed Hayden. She hadn’t done it. I would have seen her with Mr. Miller, would have noticed her eye wandering to him…because that’s how aware of her I was.

  I knew she hadn’t done it, and I didn’t say one damn thing to defend her.

  “I don’t think one person speaking up would have made a difference,” she says. “It was like a runaway train; there was no stopping the rumor once it was out. A seed of suspicion was all they needed.”

  She might be right, but it doesn’t make me feel better.

  Her expression grows pensive. “Adam, can I ask you something?”

  I nod.

  “Why didn’t you recognize me when you first started working at Blue? If you knew me so well in high school…”

  I shake my head. “Know is a strong word. I watched you. And I’m not sure why I didn’t recognize you right away. You go by a different name now, so that didn’t help. I also hadn’t seen you in eleven years; I wasn’t expecting to find you at Blue Casino. And you look…different.” I peer over. “Dress different. You don’t wear glasses anymore. And you’ve filled out.” A lazy grin I can’t hide spreads across my face. I allow my gaze to drop to her chest.

  She frowns. “Jackass. Don’t give me that. I may have changed, but not that much.”

  “In my defense, when I saw you for the first time at Blue, it was from behind, if you recall. I didn’t get a good look at your face.” I’m laughing now as an image comes to mind of Hayden crawling around on the floor, her pert little ass in the air. Not much different from the way I found her the other day in the facility manager’s office.

  She throws the discarded beer label at my head. “I swear, you are the only person who catches me in those unfortunate positions. For your information, I was searching for my favorite pen.”

  I shoot her a flirty grin. “Lucky me.”

  She shakes her head in exasperation, but she’s smiling.

  “You have to acknowledge,” I say, “your face, pretty as it is, wasn’t attracting my attention at that moment.”

  She throws up her hands. “What about later? After we’d been properly introduced.”

  “Yeah, that part I can’t explain. You’re not the quiet, hide-in-the-corner girl you used to be. You come across as an entirely new person, but I did notice you. There’s always been something.”

  She shifts beside me, and I think she must sense the tension that’s taken over the hallway, ratcheting up the temperature several degrees.

  It’s been that way from the beginning, that tension, and if I hadn’t blocked my feelings for the shy girl all those years ago, I might have recognized Hayden this time around, regardless of the name change. Might have sought her out long ago.

  Oddly, it feels good to admit how she affects me—has always affected me. To realize I’m not as unfeeling as I thought I was.

  “I bought this place,” she says, obviously changing the subject, or at least going back to our original conversation, “to prove something.” She looks around.

  “Which is?”

  Her gaze falls on me. “That no matter what someone says or does, I can hold my own.” Her expression is strong and beautiful, and for a moment, my breath locks in my lungs.

  I think about kissing her.

  And hold myself back with all of my strength.

  This urge to kiss her has gotten out of hand.

  Working at Blue Casino with Paul and William, and with Blackwell for a boss, isn’t much different from working for my father, but it’s also different in every way imaginable. Because my father isn’t calling the shots. So I understand the need Hayden has to prove herself. She was given a raw deal when we were teenagers. This is her redemption. And I want her to have it. Just as long as she doesn’t get hurt.

  Her gaze drops and a small smile plays along her mouth. “It sounds stupid. Maybe I’m deranged for buying the place. I also wanted to make things up to my parents. They sacrificed everything for me.”

  “That’s what good parents do.” I think of my mother and how she died to give my youngest brother life, and the pound
ing behind my temples that’s been teasing me these last couple of days returns. I squeeze my forehead and grab the items I’ll need to prepare the mud.

  Hayden is stronger than any woman I’ve ever met, with the exception of my mother. The light and strength that come from Hayden draw me. The more I know her, the stronger that urge to be close gets. I want all of her.

  “We’re the same age, right?” I ask bluntly, and out of nowhere, except that I’ve wondered. She’s got to be my age, but her determination and decisions make her seem much older.

  Her pretty, petal-colored lips compress. “It’s not gentlemanly to ask a lady’s age.”

  Never lets me get away with anything. God, I love that. “It’s only ungentlemanly when you’re forty or above.”

  “I think you mean thirty or above, but just so you know I’m confident in my womanhood, I happen to be twenty-seven.”

  Same age as me. “When is your birthday?”

  “August thirty-first. I’ll be twenty-eight in a couple of months.”

  I nod. “Virgo.”

  “How did you know?” She peers at the powder I’m pouring into a bucket.

  This shit is messy. I should probably move it outside. “I have four brothers. Among the five of us, we take up half the zodiac.”

  Hayden’s jaw drops. “Four brothers? There are five of you walking around?”

  It is a scary prospect, but them’s the breaks.

  She continues to stare as though dazed. I point at the bucket. “This is going to get messy. Is there someplace in the yard where I can blend it? I’ll need an electrical outlet.”

  Her eyes refocus and she stands. “Yeah, sure. This way.” She smacks the back of her jeans, as if to dust them off, though there’s nothing on them. Doesn’t stop me from checking out her cute ass.

  I follow her out and blatantly ogle her, because that’s what I do, though I don’t recall being this much of a dog before. Matter of fact, I can’t recall the last woman I ogled. It seems I reserve that for my feisty coworker.

  “When’s your birthday?” she asks as she leads me to the back door. We step onto a small deck. A metal table with a yellow flowering plant on top separates two lounge chairs. It’s charming, just like the rest of Hayden’s house.

  “February fifteenth,” I say. “Same age as you.”

  “Not quite.” She pats me on the shoulder with her tiny hand. “I have a few months on you.”

  I chuckle at the ridiculousness of that statement. “You’re only five and a half months older.”

  “And don’t you forget it,” she says, and walks down the deck steps to a fenced-in yard, shooting me a mischievous grin.

  This is how things go down over the next few hours: I mud, then build the new jamb in her bedroom while the mud is drying—taking breaks with Hayden for beers and burgers she picked up from the joint a few blocks away—and we banter. The hours pass, and it’s not until ten p.m. that I realize how late it is.

  Hayden is in the kitchen, futzing around with something or other. I’m not really sure what, as I’ve been in the zone working on the bedroom wall. I put away my tools and bring in the shop vac I brought from home. Not much I can do about the dust that’s collected. I brought a few drop cloths, and we covered the bedding with a sheet, but this work is messy. Dust is everywhere.

  I vacuum up the debris on the floor and return my tools to the truck. I’m finished, with the exception of sanding, painting, and shelving, but that will have to wait until the mud dries.

  I look around to make sure I’ve grabbed everything. Hayden’s home is clean and orderly, the exact opposite of her office, which surprises me. The colors in her bedroom are cool tones, and calming. It’s been a long week. More than once I’ve looked longingly at her bed. The headache that’s been brewing these last couple of days in spits and spurts is going full force now, and it feels like my temples are pulsating.

  I stop in the doorway of her bedroom and close my eyes, rubbing the sides of my head.

  “You okay?”

  The damn headache has muted my senses. I didn’t hear her approach, but Hayden is standing only two feet away. At some point, she changed, because she’s in sleep pants and a tank top. My head hurts like hell, but I’m coherent enough to notice she’s still wearing her bra, much to my disappointment.

  “Headache. I get them sometimes.” I wave behind at her room. “This is all I can do for today. I’ll have to return tomorrow after work. Or next weekend, if that’s okay?”

  She chews her lip. “Of course, but are you sure? You’ve put in so many hours. I said it yesterday and I’ll say it again, we should call it even. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “It’s been fun and I don’t mind.” I attempt a smile, but it comes out as a wince. The headache has my eyes tearing.

  Before I know what’s happening, Hayden is dragging me by the arm toward her bed. She carefully pulls off the sheet we placed to protect it, and pushes down on my shoulders. “Sit.”

  I do as she says, because I’m too tired to protest. Not that I would. What sane man would refuse a beautiful woman drawing him to her bed?

  She crawls up behind me, and if I weren’t in so much pain, I might think of ways to take advantage of the situation. But all I can think about is that I still have to stand up, walk to my car, and drive my sorry ass home. I should have taken painkillers hours ago, but I was in the zone. Now I’m paying for it.

  Warm little heatblaster hands flatten on the top of my head—and drain the pain right from my skull.

  My shoulders relax, and my eyelids close. Hayden’s fingers slide to my temples and she rubs in gentle circles. I rest my forearms on my knees, and my head drops. I sense her angle closer to reach me. I shouldn’t lean this far forward, but it feels so good I can barely keep myself upright. One of her hands slides to my neck. She begins massaging my head with one hand and my neck with the other.

  I am in heaven. Feels so good…

  I should probably tell her she doesn’t need to do this, but Hayden is willingly putting her hands on me. I’m no dummy; I keep my damn mouth shut. And that’s when I really lose track of time, because everything melts.

  The tension caused by Blue Casino.

  The barriers holding Hayden and me apart.

  Until I’m dreaming there’s nothing standing between us…

  Chapter Twenty

  Hayden

  I’ve never seen Adam this exhausted. When I went to the bedroom to check on him, he was wavering in the doorway, his hands clutched to his head. I didn’t think; I simply dragged him to the bed to help relieve his obvious pain.

  A gust of air escaped his mouth as soon as I placed my hands on his head. He’s been quiet for several minutes now. No banter, no insults. Which isn’t like him.

  After another five minutes of rubbing and admiring my kick-ass walk-in closet that looks amazing and is going to make all my shoe dreams come true, I notice something peculiar. Not only is Adam not bantering with me, he isn’t moving either.

  I hold my fingers still. “Adam?”

  Nothing.

  I lean closer. His breathing is steady—really steady—and his eyes are closed. A light snore sounds.

  He fell asleep?

  Adam looked tired these last couple of days. He’s been working late at Blue, because my coworker spies tell me so, and now I’ve got him working all weekend at my house. What kind of person am I? I knew I shouldn’t have listened to him when he said he didn’t mind building the closet.

  I sit back on my hands, feeling terrible. Should I wake him? Let him sleep a little, then wake him?

  I tilt my head and study his posture. He looks uncomfortable all hunched over.

  Reaching out, I gently push his shoulder to the side, just to see what will happen. I fully expect him to wake.

  He doesn’t. Instead, he tips onto his back, one hand falling across his chest.

  Adam Cade is asleep on my bed. And he looks adorable all relaxed and boyish. But still, this is weird.
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  Is he sick? I place the back of my hand to his forehead. He feels fine. In fact, he reaches up and covers my hand with his strong, wide palm, and my heart barrels around in my chest. His palm is warm and callused, just like it looks, and now I have Adam on my bed and my hand trapped beneath his.

  And why is that such a bad thing? Adam is H.O.T., and the hero of many of my daydream fantasies, when I wish to torture myself. But I can’t sit like this all night.

  I could wake him. That would be the normal thing to do. But I don’t want to. First of all, he’s exhausted, the reason he crashed during his head massage. Seems kind of mean to force him awake. Second, and I know this is the most selfish reason of all—I don’t want him to leave.

  I’ve enjoyed having Adam over to work on the closet, shocking as it is to admit. Sometimes I would hang out with him, because it was incredibly sexy to watch him use his skilled hands—and because I enjoyed his company. We talked like we’d been friends forever. He never made me feel bad about the past. I actually felt better after sharing it with him. Other times, I’d get my own work done in a different room. But mostly, Adam made the space I grew up in warmer. Which makes no sense.

  I gently ease my hand away, and he rolls to his side, a soft snore-breathing sound rumbling from his chest. I stand and walk around him, pulling his legs onto the bed. Instead of waking, he burrows deeper into the comforter. I carefully take off his boots. And, okay, I’m being super gentle not to rouse him at this point, but still. Most people would stir with even a light tug. Maybe he’s one of those heavy sleepers?

  Adam can’t sleep like this forever. He’ll wake in an hour and wonder what happened. Then he’ll go home. Which is fine, and much more humane than shaking him awake when he’s beat.

  That decided, I exit the bedroom and close the door partway. I clean up the kitchen, watch the last of the late-night news, and fold a load of towels. The entire time, I’m expecting Adam to walk out, dazed, and asking me what happened.

  He doesn’t.